faith, trust, and pixie dust
by gokult
Summary: — and four and a half years later, he comes tumbling in through her door at three o'clock in the morning; he stays, she lets him, and this is how the story begins.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** faith, trust, & pixie dust  
**GENRE:** romance, drama  
**WORD COUNT: **5k+**  
****NOTE:** MY GODDAMN KOKORO 4 FUCKING TENRI  
i swear like i almost crieD and I've never wanted to beat an MC's ass (aka keima) so harD PIECEOFSHIT hE MADE TENRI CRY  
i've been writing this since 266, 267 ish lol  
btw, updates r coming for what a birdsongbut i _had _to write this first bc im as dicky as keima & i just churned this out LOL  
i have strange formatting sorry ahead of time

* * *

**.**

**.**

"... sorry, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

Tenri says good bye to her first love which she's had for ten fucking years at the bitter age of seventeen.

**.**

**.**

— and that's pretty much where the story ends.

**.**

**.**

(... for _now._)

**.**

**.**

;-)

**.**

**.**

**faith**&**trust** w/ a dash of—

**.**

**.**

**PIXIE  
**_dust / / / / /_

**.**

**.**

_(part i.)_

**.**

**.**

**BUZZ.**

**BUZZ.**

_**BUZZ.**_

_"— ah, um, Ayukawa Tenri here, I can't... come to the phone right now... so please leave a message after the beep..."_

"Hello, Tenri? It's Mama. Somebody needs to stay over at your apartment for awhile... you don't mind though, right?"

**CALL ENDED.**

**CALL ENDED.**

_**CALL ENDED.**_

**.**

**.**

**i. she'd call it a beginning, but the story's already ended**

When Tenri's door rattles open at three o'clock in the morning, she's horrified, and she proceeds to drop her favorite teacup onto the floor. It shatters like her heart.

He's soaking wet, his hair is sticking to his skin, and his bag just flops to the floor with a soggy thump. When her eyes meet his for the first time in four and a half years, she feels the telltale flutter of her heart making its way to her throat.

He notices her arms shaking.

"... hey, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

"Oh," she says softly, "hi, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

She watches as he makes a personal swimming pool in her front hallway, and she stands up abruptly, her eyes never meeting his again.

Keima blinks when she marches over and starts pushing him in the general vicinity of her bathroom.

Her fingertips tremble against his back, and Keima falls silent.

"— now, go take a shower," she begins stubbornly as she shoves him towards the door. "Introductions later."

"I'm fine," he whines slightly, his fingers already grasping at the edges of his PFP. "And don't we need to talk anyway?"

"You'll get a cold," she replies quietly, effectively ignoring the second part as she plucks the device out of his hands efficiently. "Now, hurry. The towels are in the cabinet."

"I know."

Tenri twitches, frowns. "You've never—"

Keima shrugs with a sigh of resignation as he takes the PFP back with a simple flick of the wrist. "You've always been rather clean is all," and the door shuts quietly in her face.

She laughs softly against the door. "Keima-kun never changes."

"..."

**.**

**.**

"— ah, and you'll be sleeping here tonight, or errr... today," she tells him faintly as she flicks on the light. "Sorry if it's a bit messy, but..."

Keima inspects her, his eyes scrutinizing her carefully; she shifts her legs under his stare, her toes wriggling into the carpet uncomfortably.

Keima eventually nods, his face glowing from the PFP screen.

"... thanks, Tenri."

Tenri smiles like hell in her eyes.

**.**

**.**

"Goodnight, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

She's asleep on the couch when he finds her two hours later, the blanket thrown haphazardly around her waist. Tenri snores gently in her sleep, her hair tussled around her, and she breathes gently with the pencil tangled in her fingertips.

There's bubble wrap on the table.

She drools, and he rolls his eyes.

Keima snorts. "Idiot."

**.**

**.**

Tenri wakes up in the middle of the afternoon tucked neatly back into a bed, the sunlight streaming in gently through the window.

"Hah..." she breathes as she leans onto her hand absentmindedly, her fingers tugging on her bangs as she closes her eyes again. "... really doesn't change at all."

**ii. monsters under the bed**

Keima looks incredibly unsurprised when she sprints into the living room, her eyes wide.

"Oh," she says in a tiny voice, her smile a tad strained.

"It wasn't a dream, Tenri," he remarks dryly in reply. She manages to look embarrassed for half a second before she begins towards the kitchen.

"Have you eaten yet?" she chirrups lightly. He hears the slight tremor in her voice, and he glances up from his PFP screen.

"No, but you don't have to worry—"

"— all you need are your games, right?" she finishes lightly, a small smile on her face. "That's not healthy."

He pauses in reply, appraising her as he clicks through his game. "You still seem to think you know me quite well."

Tenri takes out the eggs, and grimaces when it cracks under her fingers.

"Not exactly," she replies, the egg frying against the hot skillet. She brushes her hand against her temples restlessly.

Tenri notices the brief pause in his series of clicks, feels his stare, and she flips the egg.

**.**

**.**

Keima sighs as he sets the PFP down. "You're too cryptic, Tenri," he accuses almost absentmindedly, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

She shrugs with a sweet smile as she sets the food in front of him.

"Some things never change."

**.**

**.**

"You're not going to ask why I'm here?" he asks her. Tenri blinks slowly as she glances up from her book. She shifts uncomfortably on her recliner, her eyes peering over at him.

"... not really my business."

He snorts. "I intrude on you at three o'clock in the morning, and it's not your business?"

**.**

**.**

"... your business... stopped being mine, I suppose."

**.**

.

Keima stills.

**.**

**.**

"Ah... yeah."

**.**

**.**

"— but you'll just let me stay here? At the drop of a hat? A guy you haven't seen in years, and you'll just...?"

Tenri laughs, and Keima decides she's a little different; he's not too sure if it's a good thing.

Her bubble wrap lies next to her untouched, and she squirms in her seat. She arches a brow at him, her book hiding her smile, and he stares back at a girl he's not sure he knows anymore.

**.**

**.**

She says it likes it's obvious.

"It's because it's _you_, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

Tenri's always been too cryptic.

**iii. the affair that never was**

"No," she says passively-stubbornly in a very Tenri-classic style as she twiddles her thumbs. Keima looks incredibly exasperated.

"There's only one bedroom."

"Yes."

"And you want me to sleep in it?"

She furrows her brow, and it makes him feel like an idiot. "Yes."

**.**

**.**

"Tenri."

"Keima-kun."

"You are stubborn at the absolute worst of times."

**.**

**.**

"You're currently questioning my masculinity."

She raises an eyebrow.

"— because you care so very much about your masculinity," she says dryly, and Tenri's tone never used to be _dry._

Keima wonders when she changed; he never asks, and she'll never tell.

**.**

**.**

Keima stares at the bed. "It's pretty big."

Tenri flinches, and she has an awful premonition she won't like where this is going. She can see it in the mischievous glint in his eyes, in how he's manipulating her to how he wants her to turn.

That look makes her nervous even more than it makes her heart flutter furiously against her ribcage.

**.**

**.**

"We could always share the bed," he suggests easily.

**.**

**.**

Tenri explodes, her face turning scarlet.

Keima smirks. He's still got it.

**.**

**.**

"... sure," she eventually says, an impish smile on her face.

**.**

**.**

"— _WHAT_."

**.**

**.**

(— two can play at that game.)

**.**

**.**

;-)

**.**

**.**

Keima looks stunned, and four and a half years later, it's like the tables have finally turned.

**.**

**.**

He swears her smile looks more like a smirk these days.

**iv. the gambling table & all its losses**

They end up staying in the living room with a bet and the bedroom on the line.

"You'll lose, Tenri," he says as he whacks her on the forehead with his PFP. Tenri jumps drowsily and frowns at him. "I pull all-nighters all the time."

She blinks the sleep out of her eyes and bites back her sarcasm at one o'clock in the morning.

"... playing games?"

He grunts. Tenri peers over his shoulder as he clicks through.

"— of course playing games," he mutters. "It's my _life."_

Tenri pauses. "You... don't look very happy though."

**.**

**.**

Keima clicks a button.

**.**

**.**

"It's not your business, right?"

**.**

**.**

Tenri smiles like there's a secret; it's all rather bitter for them both.

**.**

**.**

"Right."

**.**

**.**

She falls asleep at the ripe young time of four twenty in the morning. Tenri, forever cursed by awkward situations despite her docile nature, falls asleep with her arms crooked around his neck, her head nestled into his neck, her legs curled into the couch.

Her warm breath blows into his ear, and Keima scowls and turns red and he hates real girls, really.

Keima sighs from his position on the floor, his eyes frowning at her dark circles and pale face.

"Troublesome."

**.**

**.**

Tenri wakes up in a bed, the blankets neatly tucked around her, and a note stuck onto her forehead,

_"You Lose."_

— and she nearly smiles.

**.**

**.**

"Keima-kun, you're (still) a sore winner."

"Hn."

**v. if only**

Her smile never meets her eyes, and he never smiles much anyway. It's all very quiet in a freezing apartment.

Tenri wonders if that will ever change.

**vi. "i-i'm just not domestically inclined"**

Tenri can only cook three things— quick bake cookies, eggs, and instant ramen.

Keima just kind of gawks as she opens the cupboards— it's enough damn ramen to last five fucking years.

"Your parameter always seemed like the domestic type," he sputters. Tenri smiles sheepishly.

"I'm... _clumsy_."

"Flighty."

Tenri purses her lips. "I'm just skittish," she corrects, a faint pink tinging her cheeks.

Keima scowls as she attempts to grab a cup. He can live off of games, but like hell Tenri can.

"Just— let me handle it," he says exasperatedly as he snatches the cup ramen from her. Tenri blinks.

"Oh, but—"

"— it's not like I'm great, but I'm a helluva lot better than you and Elsie," he grumbles as he raids the fridge.

She manages to feel a little insulted until, well, he has a damn point. Tenri sulks quietly until he comes up to her with two steaming cup ramen while looking slightly embarrassed.

She stares intently at his face.

"Well... we can just... shop tomorrow."

She folds her fingers gently over his for a second as she steals the cup away.

"Of course, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

The cashier lady looks ecstatic when Keima appears strictly with Tenri straggling behind him.

"Oh, Ayukawa-san," she squeals, startling Tenri from her intent inspection of the eggs, "who is _this_?"

Tenri smiles weakly, her hands gesturing in Keima's general direction. "He's a, um... childhood..." she pauses, her brow furrowing thoughtfully, "I— n-nevermind, he's an acquaintance."

Keima gives her a weird look, one that makes her feel as if she did something wrong even though _hello_, she's abiding by his rules, and then he abruptly corrects her. Tenri stares.

"I'm her childhood friend," he says curtly as he pays the bill. The cashier smiles charmingly and nods.

"Anything else?"

**.**

**.**

Tenri wonders.

"No," she says softly, looking down at the ground. "We're— nothing else."

**.**

**.**

She fiddles with the plastic bags on the way back. "Since when?"

Keima continues his games, looking remarkably bored. "What?"

Tenri burns scarlet. "I— nothing," she manages miserably, silently cursing her damned awkwardness. Keima appraises her for a few seconds.

"Since—"

**.**

**.**

He sounds exasperated.

"— well, I mean, wasn't it just _obvious_?"

Tenri blinks twice.

**.**

**.**

"No," she says bluntly.

**.**

**.**

Tenri smiles as he sputters for words, his eyes violently conflicted. She tugs on his plastic bags.

"That's... enough, though," she says happily, and they're both such awful liars.

**vii. drowsy days but never sleeping**

Tenri goes on an acute boycott of sleeping in the bedroom.

AKA— she refuses to sleep in the goddamn single bed in the goddamn single bedroom of the goddamn single apartment.

It's all a very self-suffering affair, really.

"This argument? _Again?!_" he hisses at her when she tumbles into the living room and falls asleep against the carpet.

"— dun wanna," she murmurs back, her lips barely whispering the words as she curls into the carpet, her eyes already sliding shut.

"Oh?" he mutters slightly snippishly— this is the thirteenth damn night he's had to drag her back in, and, and, "why not?"

"— you look lonely, I think."

He freezes, his game music fixed abruptly on repeat, his eyes focusing back on a lightly breathing figure.

Keima forgot how to live, but this girl might teach him how to breathe again.

**.**

**.**

"Tenri," he whispers in her ear, shaking her shoulder lightly. Tenri grunts in her sleep and turns towards him.

He's about to screech at her because he hasn't reached a damn save point, but—

— she opens one eye sleepily, and her fingertips reach up to brush his cheek. Her touch is surprisingly kind and gentle, her eyes quiet and troubled but all too caring, and perhaps Tenri's always been a mystery to him. Keima stares, his PFP falling into his lap as he grabs at her fingers.

"Sorry, Keima-kun," she says softly.

He never knows what she's sorry for.

**.**

**.**

Tenri's smile is slow and sweet and she's already asleep.

Keima sighs, and for the first time in four and a half years, he gives in.

**.**

**.**

Tenri wakes up the next morning comfortably curled into her blankets. She sighs, her eyes frustrated as she arises, because goddammit, she has got to stop falling— she stops short.

"— oh," she says in a small voice.

He's fallen asleep in the bed, his chest rising and falling lightly, his glasses thrown off into the corner somewhere, his PFP tucked under himself somewhere in the mess he's made on the other side of the bed.

Tenri flushes red, and her heart beats, but she won't let it go any farther than this— never again. She clenches her fingertips into the blankets before relaxing, her gaze frowning at him.

She hesitates for a few seconds, but eventually her fingertips brush against his forehead, and his eyes slide open as she draws back again, twiddling her thumbs.

Keima stares at her, the blankets wrinkled, the sheets halfway on the floor.

**.**

**.**

"Ah, um... good morning, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

"... yeah."

**.**

**.**

She feels the temperature rise with her heart, and she's tap dancing along a thin line between four and a half years ago and now.

**viii. you're a sharpshooter, babe**

Tenri sometimes watches him play his games in her free time. She sits quietly, a book and glasses in hand, and she stares as he plays.

He's not used to the company without all the insults and jabs at his, erm, entire life.

"Why... did she end up liking you?" she asks one day, out of the blue, her finger tapping the screen gently.

He turns to look at her, and he looks almost surprised. "Typical Route A for tsunderes," he replies methodically.

"...?"

He sighs melodramatically, and Tenri almost rolls her eyes. "In which I instigate the tsuntsun side to bring out and heighten the deredere levels," he says as if it's fact.

"Oh, how do you do that?"

Keima clicks a few buttons. "You don't really have to pretend to be interested."

**.**

**.**

"Mm?" she murmurs, clearly not listening as she browses thoughtfully through the manual. She glances up, her eyes clear, her fingers tightly gripping the booklet. He stares.

She smiles gently, her eyes roaming back to the pictures, her finger tapping at the girl's delicate features. "She seems nice, though."

Keima blinks.

**.**

**.**

"Oh, did you say something earlier, Keima-kun?"

**.**

**.**

"... no."

**ix. seeing is believing, but all we see are words**

Tenri is still highly embarrassed when he crawls into bed beside her, the mattress shifting in slightly unfamiliar ways. Keima glares at her when he sees it and points accusingly.

"You_ wanted_ this!"

She turns red as she tugs on the blankets and stares at the ceiling. "You were being stubborn..." she defends weakly.

"It's common courtesy for a boy to take the damn couch," he grumbles grumpily under his breath as he lays his head down onto the pillow, his PFP lighting up his face.

She smiles half-heartedly. "In games?"

Keima scoffs. "Of course in games, Tenri. Where else would I get such ideas?"

She stiffens suddenly and shifts in the bed uncomfortably. Keima's an idiot, but he notices how she falls silent, and his brow furrows.

"..."

**.**

**.**

An hour later, Tenri hears the PFP power off.

"Tenri? I know you're not asleep."

She closes her eyes tightly, her fingers clenching like a prayer, her heartbeat speeding up—

"I didn't," he sighs, and she can feel his stare cause goosebumps on her neck and down her shoulders. Tenri hates how he can always read her so easily— it's like she shouldn't even bother in the first place.

She has half the mind to challenge him and ask what he didn't do, but she's tired, and he's insufferable.

"... never?"

Tenri hates how her voice quavers, hates how he knows what she's thinking, hates how it's always Keima, Keima, Keima, and hates how he never feels anything close to how she felt, feels, will feel.

She can almost hear his halfway smile between the spaces of then and now.

"Never."

**.**

**.**

"Oh," she says in a small voice.

His laugh rumbles in his chest, and she abruptly realizes that there's a guy, a dude, a man in her bed— a man with whom she has extremely ambiguous feelings towards right now.

Tenri whimpers.

**.**

**.**

She wonders if this makes her a little special.

At the thought, Tenri feels her heart grow warm. He shifts in the bed, murmuring about Yokkyun in his sleep, and Keima's always been dangerous in the worst kinds of ways.

**.**

**.**

When he wakes up, her face inches from his, softly breathing, he—

**x. burning my lungs and turning fire**

"You won't tell me, then?" he asks quietly. Tenri jumps at his sudden entrance, backing into the stove and the pot—

— and she hisses. Keima blinks as she jumps back from the hot stove, tears almost pricking her eyes. The boiling water spills over the edge, the pot toppling to the floor, and Tenri makes a noise as it scalds at her skin as she hops away.

Honestly, Tenri has a first aid kit prepared for these things because she's awfully clumsy, but he grabs her wrist suddenly, and she never gets a chance to do anything.

"Idiot," he complains, shooting her a glare.

"But—

"— I said _I_ would cook, didn't I?"

"— but I was hungr—"

"— don't care," he grumbles as he drags her towards the bathroom. She winces as he slams the door, turns on the shower harshly, and lets cool water run its way down her arm.

Tenri sighs in relief until—

**.**

**.**

"Strip," he barks.

Tenri makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

"— a-asgsgkfkl?!"

**.**

**.**

"— do you want scars on your legs?" he snaps.

"I— I-I don't want Keima-kun to—?"

"_STRIP!_" he roars, and Tenri delivers an impressive thirty degree kick to his ass in reply because _WHAT THE HELL_ and _NO WAY IN HELL, DIPSHIT._

Tenri has some decency, and _like hell _she'd strip.

"Get out!" she squeaks out delicately, and the door slams in his face.

**.**

**.**

When she steps out, her face bright red and herself slightly huffy, he sighs.

"You're a tsundere sometimes, Tenri," he mutters as he starts to wrap gauze around her wrist. "It _really _doesn't befit your parameter."

"You don't really need to," she protests, ignoring his jab. He shoots another glare at her, and she falls silent.

"Of course I have to," he sniffs as he daintily spins the gauze around her arm whilst dabbing cooling cream. "It's my fault, kind of."

Her heart hammers against her chest, and she sighs unhappily.

**.**

**.**

"Keima-kun... doesn't play fair."

**.**

**.**

He shrugs, his hands making quick work as he moves down her legs. She reddens.

"I wasn't playing to begin with," he returns bluntly.

Tenri shoulders slump, his ears turn red, and they both pretend not to notice.

**xi. all i wanted was to break your walls**

Their routine is a cycle.

It never begins nor does it end; they're stuck in a rut, and Tenri doesn't know when he's going to leave.

She's not sure if she wants him to, not sure if she wants to leave this endless and vicious cycle for her heart, and perhaps that's what scares her the most.

The rut breaks when he grabs her wrist one day, his fingers wrapping easily around it, his fingertips digging into her skin.

"We need to talk."

**.**

**.**

After nearly a month and a half of avoiding the subject— all the subjects— Tenri feels her heart sputter to a stop.

**.**

**.**

Tenri trembles delicately in his hand, her eyes wide, and he watches as she yanks her wrist away from him as she swallows harshly.

"I—"

**xii. you came in like a wrecking ball**

**KNOCK.**

**KNOCK.**

_**KNOCK.**_

"Hey, you need to eat."

"..."

**.**

**.**

"Tenri."

**.**

**.**

"_Please._"

**.**

**.**

"... I'm sorry."

**xiii. and all you ever did was wreck me**

Tenri squeezes her legs tightly together, and cries desperately.

She doesn't want to hear it again— all she's— they've— ever been is a rejection.

Ten years of pining, of waiting, of never being able to move on, of never being able to let go, of, of watching him fall for other girls and of, of always letting him.

Four and a half years of trying to let go and let go and _let go._

A month and a half of seeing him everywhere, of being next to him, of realizing she could never let him go in the first place.

She can't do this anymore; she's so _tired._

"Tenri."

**.**

**.**

"Tenri, you don't need to talk or anything. I just want you to listen."

"..."

"Are you listening?"

She shifts on the floor, her throat closed, her fingertips digging into the carpet.

"..."

"Tenri..."

**.**

**.**

"I am... single right now."

**.**

**.**

Tenri's probably never wanted to beat a guy and throw him out the window so much in her life; her body acts on her own as she throws the door open, her gaze indignant and angry and half crying, because who the hell does he think he is?!

"You—" she begins angrily, because she's never, ever, ever had such a feeling bubbling up into her chest, has never felt so bitter.

She thought she got over this, over _him_, got over ten years of always _knowing._

His eyes are calculating, and Tenri wants to smack her foot into his damn face, because of course he'd know the perfect words to boil her over, to make her, a girl with a really, really, really insane temperament to just break to pieces in front of him.

He would, she thinks bitterly. It's Keima-kun, after all.

She didn't cry back then— she forced herself to move forward. Even so, seeing his damn face just makes everything feel fresh in her mind, and it's breaking her heart all over again.

Tenri stops short and takes a deep breath, her hand back on the door handle. "I need..." she murmurs, her eyes almost horrified as she attempts to retract herself back inside. He stands suddenly, him looming over her, and he grabs her shoulders.

"Tenri."

**.**

**.**

When he meets her eyes, she's not crying— but her eyes shine just a little, and his heart feels heavy.

"— why'd you come back," she asks quietly, her voice trembling in the palm of his hand, her eyes dull and miserable, "after all these years... why?"

"I—" he says, and for once, he sees her as the girl with a broken heart.

**.**

**.**

"... I was missing something."

**.**

**.**

Tenri pauses, her eyes oddly blank.

"Missing what?"

**xiv. meaning to be, but there's never any meaning**

When Keima falls silent, Tenri pulls back suddenly, her shoulders abruptly snatched back from his hands. She shakes, her shoulders quavering, and when she finally looks back up, he realizes she's crying.

He realizes he's never seen her cry.

"Ten years, Keima-kun," she whispers quietly. "I couldn't get over you for _ten years_— I wasn't allowed to, you know? And you... all you give me are three _goddamn _letters."

Tenri glares all of a sudden, her fingers fisting into her dress. "I— all I get are three letters, and the last one— you couldn't _even_," she asks, her eyes closing, her breathing harsh, "TELL ME IN GODDAMN _PERSON_?"

"And you're expecting me to just be okay with seeing you and you're just _missing something_?" she hisses, all of her words melting and sizzling on his skin and suffocating her. She sees him and his eyes and all she's ever done is drown in him.

"Did you expect me to be okay with you falling in love? Did you expect me to just, to just be okay with that? Did, did you expect me to just fall back in love with you? I— I'm not a stupid conquest anymore, Keima-kun, _I'm not_," she says, all of her words struggling out of her mouth.

"I understood more than anyone else," she tells him softly, "but it _hurt,_ Keima-kun—

"— it... still hurts."

Tenri laughs almost hysterically, all of her confessions tumbling out after fourteen and a half years long gone.

"You had to save the world," she tells him, "but I couldn't stand my part in it all."

Keima stares at her, her eyes glistening, her lip trembling. She's not angry; he can see it in how her shoulders shake, in how she falls down to his level, in how she balances a smile almost delicately onto her features—

"I'm too selfish," and her voice cracks.

They fall quiet again, her hand slack against the wall. Keima doesn't know what to say— he never does in these situations when all he's left with is a broken heart and not enough superglue to put the pieces back together.

"I can't _do_ this anymore," she murmurs as she cradles her head in her hands.

**.**

**.**

"... you were never a stupid conquest, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

She wonders if he knows that was always the reason she could never let him go.

**xv. the arctic circle**

The apartment is freezing.

**xvi. the merry band of liars and their book of thieveries**

A week later, Tenri opens the bedroom door, takes him by the sleeve, and drags him inside.

"You haven't slept much," she says quietly as she settles down next to him. Her hair spills over her shoulders, and she's long outgrown an old habit of sleeping in braids. Keima leaves his PFP on the nightstand, leaving the room startlingly dark, and his fingers brush against her eyes.

"Neither have you," he remarks wryly as he eyes her dark circles. She almost leans into his touch, her eyes almost drifting closed.

**.**

**.**

"… are we okay?"

**.**

**.**

Tenri's smile doesn't reach her eyes, but her lips brush against his cheek in an almost impulsively fragile manner. She almost laughs triumphantly when his ears turn red.

**.**

**.**

"I've always been _okay,_ Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

She's just never liked it.

**xvii. not all that is lost is permanent, but it's pretty damn close**

When Tenri's sure he's asleep peacefully in the bed (after slipping a few nonprescription sleeping pills into his soup, _winkwink_), she runs out of the apartment at midnight, the keys swinging around her finger like a carousel.

The door locks behind her, and she never looks back.

**.**

**.**

The bartender has a shady smile, the kind that therapists have when they know their patients are long, long gone.

He hands her a shot, the amber liquid shiny and tempting and pretty, and it's gone in a snap.

Tenri giggles.

**.**

**.**

Tenri feels the dull buzz down into her bones, her legs like jelly as she folds in on herself in a corner of a bar just a few miles away from her apartment.

She eyes the glass absentmindedly, the drink spilling dangerously, her shoes kicked off down below her as she swirls it.

Tenri sees the shadow of a man behind her, his steps heavy and loaded.

"Hey, pretty lady," somebody says, his hand on her shoulder. It's disturbingly hot and cold at the same time. His fingers dig into her skin, the feeling strangely familiar as she sees an apartment, a boy— a man— and...

She blinks drowsily at him, her eyes lost, her drink already slipping and scalding down her throat and into her heart.

The man smiles something dangerous.

"Come with me."

**.**

**.**

Keima wakes up to an empty bed, and he's freezing.

**.**

**.**

Tenri's never been reckless, Keima pants as he races down the apartment steps and out into the street.

But four and a half years is a long time, and—

**.**

**.**

Tenri can't cook, is stubborn, cries, is cryptic and understanding and loves too much and says too little and she watches him play games and she lets him sleep in her bed and lets him come into her apartment at three o'clock in the morning, and all he's ever done is leave her with a broken, broken, broken heart.

**.**

**.**

Tenri laughs with hell in her eyes, the tears spilling down her cheeks, the gasps nearly long gone, her heart hiccuping to pieces without any idea on how to put it back together again.

"... okay."

**.**

**.**

Keima slams the bar door open.

Tenri blinks, her vision hazy, her hair cascading down her back in waves, her heels off and cluttered on the floor, a man clutching her shoulder, but all he sees are her eyes.

She's _crying._

**.**

**.**

"What's wrong?" he asks softly.

**.**

**.**

Tenri tilts her head, the bottle of her beer nearly dangerously slipping and shattering into the countertop.

**.**

**.**

"... I think I'm lost."

**.**

**.**

Keima takes a few steps forward, his fingers interlinking with hers, and it's like something he's been missing.

**.**

**.**

It's always been a god's duty to guide the lost back home.

**.**

**.**

**TBC.**

* * *

no guarantees on updates bc I'm so aWFUL

UGH i cant believe twgok is over im so sad

this was tons of fun to write, tbh, bc tenri is a babe and they're always gonna be my otp for this series.  
(sorry, chihiro, though i appreciate you.)  
i hope you enjoyed it; i know it's a lil wonky in the formatting department but mmmM oh well lol

**xxx.**


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** faith, trust, & pixie dust  
**GENRE:** romance, drama, angst(?) but not rly tbh  
**WORD COUNT:** 4278 or something along those lines  
**NOTE:** shorter chapter bc im d ying  
i love twgok but i may never be okay w/ the ending w o w  
this is just an awk love affair so much drama  
i am still doing what a bIRDSONG sorry omfg  
THIS STORY TAKES FOREVER TO WRITE BYE I CAN'T EVEN

* * *

"— why… are you here?"

**.**

**.**

**faith**&**trust **w/ a dash of—

**.**

**.**

**PIXIE**  
_dust_ / / / /

**.**

**.**

_(part ii.)_

**.**

**.**

**i. long nights in by the city lights**

He yanks her hand along, and the guy behind her reluctantly lets go of her shoulder, his fingertips tracing against her skin. Tenri shudders, her eyes glazed over curiously; he looks almost faintly amused, and Keima feels like scowling.

In games, this idiot would just be a shady side character without a name—

"— WHAT'D YOU SAY?!" he roars.

Goddammit, Keima curses. He has got to stop saying things out loud.

**.**

**.**

When the guy lurches forward to punch Keima, his fists clenched, he tenses and closes his eyes tightly shut and he—

... he feels nothing.

Instead, he hears the telltale sound of somebody falling to the ground, and his heart stops and he's thinking she's so, so stupid.

When he opens his eyes, she's lying there, her hair splayed around her, her eyes fluttering, and she's so, so pale.

"Better you than me," she croaks as he kneels quickly down to her level, and with a giggle she adds, "Oh Mr. Savior of Our World."

"We have to get you to the hospital," he mutters urgently as he ignores her, his mind racing as he fishes for his cellphone; he can feel the panic thrumming through his veins as Tenri hums lightly, a gentle trickle of blood running past her cracked lips and down her chin.

This is nothing like a game, because she's in pain and there's no undo button and there's a dangerous, dangerous guy in the background.

"I'm fine, Keima-kun," she insists vaguely, her eyes wide and vacant and he realizes he's hurt her more than anybody else.

The other guy— the bastard that punched her— quickly gets subjected to a series of vicious insults from the other just as drunk visitors in the bar; Keima sees red as he flees. He stands abruptly, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched tightly.

She grabs at him suddenly, her fingers pulling desperately at his sleeves, her fingers pulling him desperately back down to her level. "It's okay, Keima-kun," she whispers soothingly, a smile tracing her lips. "Thank you."

His eyes ask the question.

**.**

**.**

"You look far worse off than I do," she remarks wryly.

**.**

**.**

"You're an idiot," he mutters in reply, his head down as he cradles her. Keima has half a mind to scream at her, the anger rising in his throat, but he sees her cheek swell and the glazed look in her eye, and he deflates.

Tenri laughs clearly in reply, and it makes him wonder if she's really drunk.

She reaches up carefully, her cheeks flushed either from the punch or from the alcohol or really, from both, and she caresses his face gently.

.

.

"... why'd you do it?"

.

.

Tenri smiles like it's obvious.

"It's because it's _you_, Keima-kun."

**ii. kiss me promises, darling**

He carries her out the door, the bartender nodding wearily in his wake.

"— and I'll love you through the night, and though the years may tell, I've never let you go," she sings gently in his ear. "Tell me darling, how to love a dream, tell me darling, how to love the sun, tell... me darling..."

Her legs are swung through his arms, her hands curled gently into his shirt, and he feels her soft singing through his ear.

"... promise you won't do that again."

**.**

**.**

"Do what?" she asks with a slight tilt in her voice. Keima frowns at her, and she giggles absentmindedly in reply.

"Run out," he says seriously. "Don't... run away like that again without saying anything."

"Mmm," she hums in reply, her forehead crinkling as she attempts to even think.

Keima's grip tightens. "_Promise_, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

"Nobody keeps promises," she remarks easily with a laugh, the swoon of her voice dipping and cracking.

He can hear the meaning between the lines— it's something about four and a half years ago and a ten year long ordeal for a girl much too young.

He falls silent as she swings her feet, her stilettos clacking against her heels, her cheek resting against his shoulder carefully. His feet fall heavily against the stairs, his hand falling and curling desperately around the handle of the door as it clicks open.

The apartment door swings closed behind them.

**.**

**.**

He grabs at her hand suddenly, his fingers squeezing around her slim ones until it almost hurts, and she blinks drowsily at him.

_"Please,_ Tenri."

**.**

**.**

He sets her down carefully, her feet grazing the carpet as she lands clumsily. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she stares into his eyes; for a minute, he forgets that she's tipsy, that he's broken her heart, and it's like they're both seventeen again and he has no idea of what's to come.

Suddenly, Tenri's fingers— freezing, ice-cold— grab at his face. They trace their way down his cheek, against the rim of his glasses, and she tilts her head. Tenri yanks at his face until they're just inches apart.

She searches his face for a few seconds, her head tilted, her cheek swollen, and her eyes sincere even through the daze of alcohol.

"... okay," she eventually agrees, her eyelids fluttering faintly.

**.**

**.**

"That's not promising, Tenri," he mutters almost childishly under his breath.

She tinkles a laugh into his ear at his slight disapproving tone as she falls asleep on his shoulder.

"Nobody keeps promises," she reminds him, and all it ever sounds like is bitterness.

**iii. vodka veins**

Her gaze blurs, she sees the eyes she always drowns in, and she never forgets even when she's suffocating in alcohol.

He makes it hard to forget.

**iv. wilting daisies**

Keima tucks her in, her hair neatly splayed across the pillows, and she blinks blearily up at him for a second. She's more damn trouble than she's worth sometimes.

Tenri offers a wan smile, and—

**.**

**.**

"I love you."

**.**

**.**

He stops for a second, his movements completely frozen at everything she says, everything she _does. _Tenri's eyes stare back sleepily, her eyelids already drooping, and he— he can't track her route anymore.

Tenri's somehow gotten away from her orderly route, and she's run away and messed up the process, and he can't— he doesn't— he won't understand.

The game's gone haywire, and he's not sure how to stop it.

He needs to tell her the truth. He needs to reject her, to say he doesn't love her back, because he doesn't— not yet.

He wants to blame it on the alcohol buzzing in her veins (because he can clearly hear the slur in her speech), and that she doesn't know what she's saying, that it's all lies, but—

**.**

**.**

"... do you _want_ to?"

**.**

**.**

(Tenri's parameter has always been that of a truthful drunk.)

**.**

**.**

She giggles, her words slurred together as she grazes her fingertip against his nose carefully. Her answer balances on the tip of her tongue as she blows him a kiss.

"I don't have much of a decision in the matter," she says sweetly as she taps gently at her heart, and she falls asleep seconds later, snoring all the while.

**iv. it's midnight and two minutes too late**

"... you shouldn't love me, stupid. It's an awful idea."

She snores softly in reply, a small smile curving on her face, and he snorts.

Keima's eyes darken as he glances at her cheek, the swelling harsh even in the darkness.

He clenches his fist.

**.**

**.**

For a second, he lowers himself down. For a second, he lets himself see her again as a seventeen year old who just loves, loves, _loves_ unconditionally— and for a second, he pretends he can love, love, love her back.

Tenri smiles in her sleep, slow and steady, and he exhales, his fingers running through his hair as he frowns.

It's almost funny how much it isn't pretend.

**v. don't hug me it's dark inside**

"... mm… where am I?" she murmurs, her head a little wobbly. It's like four o'clock in the morning and she kind of wants to _die_. She can already feel her jelly legs, and she can tell even through the thick haze of being pretty _smashed _that this hangover should be hell.

"_Your_ apartment, in _your_ bed. Where you would have been if you hadn't run out," he mutters rather strictly.

"... be quiet," she hushes a little petulantly, none of his words processing, her eyebrows furrowed as she burrows herself back into the covers. "It's cold," she mumbles, and she grabs at him sleepily, her arms curling around him.

He— "what are you _doing_?" and she laughs almost deliriously back.

"It's always so cold with you around."

**.**

**.**

"... and what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a bit of an asshole, _duh_."

**.**

**.**

"You speak quite... candidly when drunk sometimes, hm?"

Tenri's fingers clench deeper into his sweater as she rolls her eyes and burrows into his neck.

"S'your fault."

His eyes darken for a second, and suddenly, he carefully wraps his arms around her awkwardly and reluctantly. Tenri feels the warmth seep deep into her bones, and her eyelids flutter at the strangely unfamiliar feeling. She opens her mouth to protest, but he gives her a single look as he tightens his arms around her.

For a second, Tenri forgets. She forgets about the rejection pounding through her veins, about _ten_ _years_, and about all her regret.

He makes her heart pound like a seventeen year old still in love; maybe she's never forgotten the feeling.

She can't even breathe.

**.**

**.**

"I know."

**vi. we're just a book full of mistakes with a shitty editor**

"... sorry, that... was mean of me."

**vii. like a word without a definition**

"What are we doing?"

He doesn't take his gaze off the PFP, but he can feel her shift onto her side, her arms still curled around him. Tenri almost laughs as the serene sounds of his game fill the room.

The bed creaks as Keima replies. "What d'you mean?"

Tenri's eyes intimidate him.

"This," she gestures, "makes me feel like... like I'm _cheating, _or something."

"... we haven't done anything."

"Mm, we haven't, have we?"

She smiles almost ruefully as her arms slip away back to her side, and his neck feels unbearably cold. He clicks a few buttons, the on his PFP for a moment, and she watches him carefully— they lay there in silence, and the only sounds are music from his PFP.

Her eyes crawl up his face carefully, as if memorizing every stroke of his face, every curve of his cheek and nose.

"Ne, Keima-kun... what's she like?"

"... who?"

She arches a brow, her eyes misty, her smile faintly amused.

**.**

**.**

"Who else?"

**.**

**.**

"... she was fucking awful. Didn't follow predictions or directions, completely unpredictable, untraceable, _fickle_, skipped over my carefully constructed routes, and was much too... _too_..."

She listens carefully as he trails off, clearly struggling with his words; her eyes wonder at how red he is, and all the words echo and bounce around in her head. Half of her feels so much gratitude to the person who can bring out such a side in a boy who was practically impossible to conquer— she's so grateful that he can feel, that his heart can beat, and that there's a person who can make him do all of the above.

The ugly side of her hates it all.

Tenri tries to smile widely until her cheeks hurt, until it all grazes through the pain, and her teeth glisten in the darkness.

Parts of her wish she could just brush him of after so many years of waiting.

Her heart hurts, just a little; she blames it on the alcohol.

**.**

**.**

"Sounds like love."

**.**

**.**

Tenri feels like she's suffocating.

**viii. we're a ticking time bomb**

He stiffens.

The room goes pitch black when he suddenly powers off his PFP, and Tenri flinches at the abruptness.

"Why're you asking, all of a sudden?" Keima asks tensely, his eyes dark.

The fact that he changes the subject doesn't go unnoticed.

Tenri hums under her breath, the last threads of alcohol still making their way through her system.

_Because I want you to realize it_, she hisses internally. _You shouldn't _be_ here._

**.**

**.**

_You shouldn't be next to me,_ she thinks desperately, _because in the end, I'll be played the fool, and you'll leave me, and I'll still—_

"Goddammit," she murmurs under her breath.

Goddammit, because she can't say it. Goddammit, because if she does, he'll leave her again. Goddammit, because she's not sure what she'll do when— because it _will_— it happens again.

Goddammit.

"Hmm? You say something?"

**.**

**.**

She closes her eyes.

"Because I've always been curious about it— her," she corrects herself, "... but I don't want to remember a thing in the morning," she suddenly answers breezily, raising her voice just a bit louder as she smiles sheepishly. She allows the alcohol to slip back into her voice.

He stares her down, and Keima's always been _awfully_ good at her detecting lies.

Tenri's eyes flash almost indignantly for a second, and she turns away towards the wall, her brows furrowed as she closes her eyes again tightly.

**.**

**.**

"Not a single thing."

**ix. lovebirds**

When Keima shakes her back awake forty minutes later, her eyes are bleary and her head is hurting— this hangover will be hell, and she grimaces; she sees his eyes much, much too close to hers, and she nearly falls off the bed.

Keima grabs at her shoulders.

**.**

**.**

"I don't want you to forget though."

**.**

**.**

"... huh?"

He stares her down, his eyes serious and full of purpose and all too calculating. Tenri stares back, her gaze doubtful, and the wheels aren't turning properly.

"Let me tell you... about a girl."

**.**

**.**

Perhaps it's the alcohol still thrumming gently through her veins that makes her brave.

"How forward," she says wryly, her fingertips grazing his cheek gently, "and how cruel."

Keima looks at her intently.

"Hear me out."

**.**

**.**

_"... please."_

**x. thus we are and how far we go**

Keima tells Tenri a story about a paper girl, and a freezing paper town, three letters, and a story about love and something more.

He tells her about mistakes, and how he's coming back for a girl who's probably long forgotten him.

— he never looks away from Tenri's face.

She hardly listens to the words— all she sees is his eyes, and it breaks her heart all, all, all over again.

**.**

**.**

"... but, I'm not... good enough for her."

**xi. a therapist and her clipboard— they called it a pitiful story**

"So... why are you here?"

His eyes meet hers, and she offers a lilting smile; it tilts softly on her face, and it's the same reassuring, gentle tone that reminds him of three and a half years ago.

Perhaps it's always been that smile and that voice that beats some sense into him in the end.

"... I'm not going to say you're a good guy, Keima-kun," and she laughs halfheartedly at his offended expression, "you're not exactly _the_ _best_, and you've made mistakes, but she— we all were— was... ready for that."

Tenri's eyes almost mist over, and her hand trembles as she raises her hand to his cheek again. "She'll accept you beyond everything else, because you _deserve_ that, because she _knows_ you, because she _knows_ your intentions."

"... really?"

Tenri sighs. "You can only be dealt with for so long before you become pretty predictable," she remarks lightly, her voice lilting at the edges, her fingertips curling into the blankets.

The bed creaks.

"And besides... you love her, right?"

**.**

**.**

"... she's— she's important to me."

**.**

**.**

Her smile is almost triumphant, but somehow completely defeated, and it's... it's _over _(again).

"Then you should go back now, Keima-kun," she says softly. Tenri realizes, suddenly, her ever present role in his story and what she's always represented.

Tenri's always been the support pillar, the _reassuring_ one, and the girl who'll see him through when he needs her— but never till the end (because he'll always have somebody better for that job).

Her story is ending again— and Tenri knows she never even wanted it to end the first time.

"— i-if all this time all you needed was advice, you should've told me from the beginning!" she says, her voice shaking delicately, "I w-would've definitely helped anyway, and..."

Tenri swallows suddenly, the feeling thick in her throat and regret. "— a-and we... should just stop… _this_."

She stares down at the comforter while he gives her an odd, almost frustrated look; she doesn't even have the time to process it when Keima suddenly grips her shoulders. Tenri blinks and tries to turn away, her eyes towards the wall and away from him and _don't you dare cry, don't you _dare_ cry..._

**.**

**.**

"I don't want to."

She can hardly breathe.

**.**

**.**

"Tenri, I'm... going to kiss you."

**xii. my pretty black heart**

She blinks blankly three times, flustered.

"_What _are you— _mmph_!"

**.**

**.**

Tenri can't even protest— part of her is so, so bitter, because maybe she's always wanted this.

Keima just pulls on her shoulders, and for the second time in her life, she kisses a boy obsessed with games and with chapped lips and, and, and—

— it's all sorts of warm and awful and sweet and bitter and it's just a simple little kiss, but her heart is racing, and her hands hang limply at her sides while his burn deep into her shoulders, and it's somewhere between the lines of beautiful and so, so breakable.

Her stomach does three flips, and their teeth clack because she doesn't know what to do, and Tenri needs to push him away, but she can't because she never could in the first place.

Tenri lays there, eyes wide and shocked and surprised and everything else she ever was nearly four and a half years ago on a mast in the middle of the ocean.

**.**

**.**

In a few seconds, Tenri realizes this— whatever _this_ is— won't happen again. She takes an unsteady breath against his lips, her fingers shaking as she finally clutches at his shirt almost desperately.

She needs to push him away, she _needs _to, but there's something almost _needy _about how his lips brush against hers with a sort of heady, yet gentle pressure, and more than anything else, it's all she's ever, ever wanted— she finds that she can't even push him away if she wanted to. It makes her heart roar in her chest, her head swim, and all he does is kiss, kiss, kiss her.

**.**

**.**

— and so, for half a second, she lets herself give in. For half a second, Tenri lets her eyelids slip closed, lets her eyelashes brush softly against his cheek, and she kisses him back like there's been fourteen and a half years in between them.

**.**

**.**

Even so, she trembles as she finally pushes him back firmly, and she almost smiles but can't _quite_ do it.

"... thank you, Keima-kun."

**.**

**.**

Because after all these years, all she's ever wanted to do is kiss him back.

**xiii. fortune seekers (for we are)**

When he moves back, the bed creaking as he shifts, she's blinking incessantly, the tears clinging to her eyelashes delicately as she bites her bottom lip.

**.**

**.**

"You're not going to ask why?" he prods her.

Tenri shakes her head repeatedly, her hair swinging as she stares down at the crumpled sheets between them. Keima makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat as he grabs at her wrist.

"Tenri, you're messing up the flag event," he tells her strictly, his eyes clearly disapproving.

**.**

**.**

"— _why?"_ she murmurs as she gives in to him (as always), and she sounds so _tired,_ yet almost faintly amused.

Keima smiles crookedly.

.

.

"It's because it's _you_, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

She pauses, her eyes wide and frozen, and then she suddenly flushes a bright red— the color spreads firmly from her neck to her cheeks to her ears, and, and—

— Keima almost smirks.

"W— _what_?" she stammers out.

**.**

**.**

He repeats himself slowly as he edges her backwards.

"It's because it's _you_, Tenri," he says softly, and Tenri feels herself being launched back into his stupid, stupid, _stupid _conquest days.

Now she gets the feeling of being chased after.

**.**

**.**

She searches his eyes for a second, her gaze nearly critical and disapproving. He doesn't back away, and neither does she.

Tenri suddenly allows a small smile across her face because of the stupid, stupid person in front of her; the warmth spreads quickly from her lips to her toes as he grabs at her fingertips. Stupid, stupid, stupid Keima.

"... how ironic," she finally remarks as she burrows herself back into her pillow, her ears still a flaming scarlet. Keima almost smirks at her embarrassment— he's still got it.

**.**

**.**

How charmingly ironic.

**xiv. the dawn of a new tomorrow**

The problem isn't resolved, she reluctantly thinks as sleep takes over her like a drug. This isn't over, and the situation is still the same, she realizes.

He needs to leave her again— Tenri's eyes flutter closed tightly, her fingers clenching.

Even so, there's a sudden, almost oddly familiar warmth at her back, and her fingers are nestled gently between his, and her heart hammers against her chest unsteadily all the while.

**.**

**.**

She's such an awful person, she thinks miserably.

Tenri closes her eyes and takes three breaths.

**.**

**.**

— _it... can all wait until tomorrow._

**xv. hit me baby**

Tenri breathes slowly and steadily, the time slowly edging away as the sun rises, and Keima sighs. Although he wants to wake her (again) and clear things up— because he's tired of all their damn ambiguity— she's been drunk and kissed and talked into circles and she probably won't remember a thing.

"Knowing you, you probably still don't get what I meant earlier either," he mutters under his breath. "Chihiro was in the _past_ _tense_, and, and you were too damn drunk, and..."

"— I pretty much kissed you for a reason, _stupid_."

Tenri scrunches her nose in her sleep as she turns towards him, her eyes halfway open as she slurs drowsily. Keima rolls his eyes.

"— dun call me shtupid," she mumbles as she slides her arms around him, her trembling fingers at the back of his neck, "... _s'upid_."

Keima sighs in defeat.

**.**

**.**

"... 're you g'nna leave me again?" she asks in a small voice.

**.**

**.**

Keima winces slightly at the "again." He fidgets, and his neck grows hot under her fingertips. He props himself up onto his arm and stares at her properly, his brow twitching slightly in irritation and calm consideration.

"... you should be selfish for once, Tenri."

**.**

**.**

Her eyes, still glazed with sleep and clearly still dreaming, stare at him in confusion. "... wha's that s'pose to mean?"

His voice gets more embarrassed, and _holy hell_, he is _so_ lucky she's not going to remember this when she wakes up.

"Well, I mean— do you _want_ me to go again?"

**.**

**.**

The silence is deafening.

**xvi. our civil war**

"... you're so _s'upid_, Keima-kun," she murmurs with a slim smile on her lips, and she burrows her head into the crook of his neck and sighs as she falls asleep again. Her arms fold comfortably against his chest, and he feels a strange sense of embarrassment and warmth and _real_ _girls_ and their damn _feelings_ are so—

(— _annoying_, is what his mind says snidely, but his thumping heart carries another story; he grimaces.)

Keima exhales exasperatedly as he slips his arms around her vaguely, his fingers tangling into her heart loosely.

This girl may be the death of him, he thinks almost sleepily, but hell if she'll ever know it.

**.**

**.**

Keima yawns when he blinks his eyes open hours later only to face wide, dark blue ones. Tenri flushes red as she stammers out excuses suddenly, but she doesn't move away from him— some deep part of him feels strangely satisfied.

"— hangover?" he interrupts softly.

Tenri jumps.

**.**

**.**

"I— _no_," she murmurs shyly back. "I-I'm fine."

She continues to stare at him, her brow furrowed, and he looks at her expectantly, his face straight, his glasses settled atop his nose delicately.

**.**

**.**

"What?"

Tenri shakes her head suddenly, a small smile on her face.

"It's nothing, really..."

**.**

**.**

"— b-but, I guess I just feel like I had a really... a really wonderful sort of dream."

**TBC.**

* * *

HAH I BET NOBODY WAS EXPECTING ME TO UPDATE & i don't blame you tbh haha  
this chapter was kinda awful but um— wow dat climactic but somehow anticlimactic climax amirite

BTW i always felt like tenri would be a really moody, fluctuating and emotional drunk, and at the end, when she talks funny, she's half asleep  
like a sleep talker  
i speak from experience LOL no seriously this happens irl  
also tenri would beat ass if you wake her up

BTW if keima is totes magotes ooc don't sue me k

sorry what a birdsong is just— it'll come when it comes

hope u enjoY lol  
tbh it's been done for awhile but holy edits and holy lazy and im a bed potato

either one or two or three chaps left they come slow so damn long srry  
tanks 4 reading heart heart

**xxx. **


End file.
